


Academic Decathlon Crossover

by happiestlittlegnome



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happiestlittlegnome/pseuds/happiestlittlegnome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you're not in academic decathlon, you won't understand. Unless you're Toni. Actually, the only people I think will understand are Danielle, Toni, and Bri. But that's okay, because this is for you guys. Others are welcome too, but only if you can handle the stupidity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a huge inside joke. Outsiders beware.

Academic Decathlon meetings are the most fun you’ll ever have in a school building. Especially in Somerset High School, where the only thing more stale and moldy than the air in the hallways is the hot lunch. During meetings, you get a whole classroom just for you and your nine-or-so closest friends. You’re the only ones who have permission to eat in the classroom, by the way. While the other students mill about in the lunchroom like sheep, elbowing each other for more table space, dining like _peasants,_ you and your friends are sitting pretty in a spacious classroom. The only downside is the studying. Or at least putting in the effort to make it _look_ like you’re studying when the coach checks on you. To be truthful, getting down to business only occurs when the _assistant_ coach enters the room.

                Right now, neither of the mentioned adults are keeping watch over the decathletes, leaving them to their own devices. Dean grabbed his overflowing curriculum binder and strode to the front of the room, making his way to the desk nearest to Sam’s. He dropped it down with a loud THUNK, making Sam jump. He was so focused on studying that he hadn’t noticed his brother approaching. Bless his freakish nerdy heart.

             Sam narrowed his eyes and his mouth formed a tight line as he glared up at Dean. “Dude, I’m trying to work here.”

                Dean’s eyebrows shot up in mock surprise and he threw up his hands in false surrender. “Oh gosh, Sam, I’m sorry! My mistake,” he chided. Sam’s glare only intensified.

                “Maybe YOU should study, too,” he suggested pointedly.

                A smirk spread across Dean’s face as he put his hands down. “You know what, Sam? You’re absolutely right,” he said, before turning away. He walked around to the other side of the desk his binder was resting on. Then, with a loud squeak of metal against floor, he pushed it full force into Sam’s.

                The sound of desk colliding with desk, as well as the yelp of shock from the younger Winchester, was enough to alarm the rest of the team. Previously all idly chatting in small groups about who-knows-what, now every eye in the room was on them. Obviously, this didn’t faze Dean in the slightest.

                He jumped over the attached chair and plopped into the desk now slightly resting on Sam’s. Cheekily resting his face in his hands, and his elbows on the desk, he gave his little brother his full attention.

                “So, what’re we studying?”

                You might have been able to hear the blood vessel pop in Sam’s brain, but Gabriel was laughing too loudly for anyone to hear much else.

                “Sam?” Dean continued, “Sammy? Sam. Hey, Sam, I’m ready to learn. Anytime you wanna start would be awesome,” you could practically hear the grin in his voice.

                Sam couldn’t get himself to look at his brother. If he saw Dean’s face, he might not be able to stop himself from throttling him.

                “Christ, Dean, would you just leave him alone?” Ruby spat, “He’s the only one who’s actually _studying_ for this thing, so just let him be.” She folded her arms.

                Kevin looked up from the curriculum notes he was taking and opened his mouth, possibly to retort to that comment, but then decided not to get involved.

                Sam shifted his focus to Ruby calmly. “Ruby, thanks, but I think I’m oka-”

                “I was just asking for some help, _bitch_.” Dean interrupted, locking a challenging stare on her.

                She stared right back, accepting the unspoken challenge. “Excuse me, _Dean_ ,” she spoke the word in a way that suggested it left a bad taste in her mouth. “I haven’t seen you study since you joined the team. It’s like you’re only here to distract us. But I guess that’s what I should expect from a _varsity_.”

                “Whoa there,” Meg said calmly, not bothering to look up from her phone. “Tone down the feisty, tulip. Your need to start arguments is amusing and all, but I’m trying to learn here.” She restocked three more of her Tiny Tower floors.

                “Hey, I study!” Gabriel chimed in playfully.

                “The only thing you’ve ever studied is Sam’s ass,” Ruby accused.

                Gabriel chuckled. “Haha, yeah…” he said wistfully, staring off into space as if he was fondly replaying a memory in his head.

                Sam buried himself deeper in his book. Chuck cleared his throat.

                Garth fidgeted. “So, Ash,” he looked over Ash’s shoulder. “What’re you reading?”

                “Updating my tumblr. Just because I’m honors doesn’t mean I have to study all day and night, y’know.”

                “You have a tumblr?” Garth asked innocently, with a quirk of his eyebrow.

                Ash shrugged. “Helps me keep up with things.”

                Garth nodded his head. “Fair enough.”

                He watched on as Ash scrolled through his dashboard. Curiosity and wonder flooded his eyes. He was in awe of the strange online community. A desk behind them, Adam also observed, but tried to look much less obvious about it.

                Chuck sat quietly in his desk next to Adam, lazily eating twizzlers and working on his latest novel. He’s never gotten published, but that doesn’t seem to discourage him, given he just started the sixth book in his series. He hasn’t really looked at the Decathlon curriculum in weeks, but nobody pesters him about it. Sometimes it’s good to be an alternate.

                Everyone settled into the comfortable silence, not exactly working but not causing a scene. That’s the best one could really hope for with this team. It’s almost a miracle that the instructors decided to stop in now, and not five minutes earlier.

               The door at the front of the classroom swung open, and Mr. Singer (though everyone calls him Bobby) shuffled in. He carried a lunch tray in one hand and held his cell phone against his ear with the other. Behind him was Mrs. Harvelle (though everyone calls her Ellen) holding a smallish stack of notes and schedules. They dropped their lunches on the large teacher’s desk at the front of the room, and Ellen began to pass out papers.

                “Great, yup, that sounds good. Lord knows they need the practice,” Bobby quickly glanced at various members of the team. “Hah, alright. Bye.” He hung up and returned the phone to his pocket.

                “Who was that?” asked Garth, sounding cheery.

                Bobby smiled. “That was the Decathlon coach of the New Richmond team.”

                The room fell completely silent.

                Ellen froze. “… _What_?”

                There was no sound except Chuck choking on a twizzler.

                “It was… the coach of the New Richmond Academic Deca-”

                “We heard you, cupcake,” Meg said, but not with her usual nonchalance. She had looked up from her cell phone, eyes wide, to stare at Bobby disbelievingly.

                Ash looked thoroughly scandalized. “Dude… why?”

                Adam had a look on his face that suggested he was mentally a thousand miles away.

                Bobby looked alarmed, but not half as alarmed as everyone else.

                “…What’s happening?!” Kevin asked frantically.

                “That’s right, you’re just a freshman, this is your first year on the team…” Gabriel answered. “I forget sometimes, you’re so damn weirdly smart. But _you_ ,” he whipped his head around to give Bobby a look. “This might be your first year coaching, but haven’t you been a teacher here for years? This is Somerset. You should knowthat we _only_ talk about… _that school..._ when we’re bragging about beating them, or planning something.”

                Bobby’s eyebrows ruffled. “Boy, I _know_ we have a little rivalry with New Richmond-”

                Half the team members hissed and covered their ears.

                “-A little rivalry with New Richmond,” Bobby pushed on, “But don’t you think you’re overreacting a little? I used to help coach the wrestling team, and nobody _hated_ each other. It was just some positive motivation to work hard and overcome your neighboring school.”

                Adam snapped back to the world of the living with a jolt. “Is that what you think this is? Some _sport_? Do you think this is some kind of _game_? Do you take this for a _game_ , Bobby?” he slowly rose to his feet, maintaining eye contact. “This isn’t some spectator sport, where you throw a ball or tackle each other. This is _Academic Fucking Decathlon_. And we do Not. Tolerate. New Richmond. Got it?”

                Bobby, not usually one to take crap from a student and let them get away with it, just nodded meekly.

                Adam took a deep breath. “Good,” he said, the fire in his voice dying out. He sat back down in his desk and promptly slumped over, falling asleep.

                Kevin, fairly stunned by this chain of events, looked to the other two Winchesters. “Does he do that a lot?”

                Dean gave a half-grin and a shrug of his shoulders. “He gets mad and kinda… tuckers himself out.”

                Kevin nodded and looked back to his desk, to show that he understands but he doesn’t understand.

                “So… why were you talking to their coach?” Ellen asked, trying to be the calm and mature one here. But Dean noticed she avoided saying the name of the town itself.

                “For the after-school meeting tomorrow, we were going to practice our speeches, right?”

                Ellen nodded.

                “But every other time we tried to give our speeches in front of the team, it just fell apart into shouting and giggling and other baloney.”

                 Dean and Gabriel averted their eyes.

“What’s your point?” Ellen asked, as if to say _get on with it already_.

                Bobby got the hint. “Well, I just thought everyone’d be a little more focused if a couple of strangers were in the room.”

                For a few moments, silence.

                Ellen broke it. “You didn’t.”

                “It’ll be good for the team!” Bobby defended. “They could give their speeches too. Plus, everyone would get to know another team a bit. It’d be good for everybody!”

                Garth had his knees cradled against his chest, and was rocking slowly back and forth in his chair.

                Ruby looked positively violated. “You invited them… _here?_ ”

                “Yes, I did! I’m the coach, and I’m standing by that decision.” Bobby crossed his arms defiantly, and thought for a moment. “Ruby, you just transferred here from New Richmond. You should be proud of where you used to go to school.”

                She visibly flinched. “Don’t talk about that!” she said, sounding horrified. “Last time that came up, some genius put a stinkbomb in my locker. That hallway was off-limits for two weeks.”

                Gabriel had that fond-memory look on his face again.

                “Stinkbombs aside,” Ellen interjected, “I support your decision, even if I don’t agree. What time are they showing up?”

                “They’re headin’ over after their classes end, just a few minutes after ours. The meeting will go an hour or two longer than usual, so tell your folks.” He announced. “Also, get your speeches ready! You have to be done by tomorrow, so you can present!”

                Ash looked up from his laptop. “What if we’re too busy writing an AU fanfic about if the characters from our favorite show were in Academic Decathlon?”

                Bobby decided to not even honor that question with an answer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet the infamous New Richmond, and we see the beginnings of a beautiful romance.
> 
> (Hint: It's definitely Bobby/Crowley)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all a big inside joke. Outsiders are welcome, but I can't guarantee your safety, and I'm not responsible for your fate.
> 
> I chose who met who in the introduction scene by using a random number generator. I didn't cheat, every pair was chosen completely by chance. I think it all worked out swimmingly.

The final bell ending the last class of the day rang throughout the school. The students whooped with glee as they gathered supplies and made their way through the halls, towards their lockers, and finally to their cars. Everybody was happy to be going home, except for the Academic Decathletes.

                The team members skulked down the hall not in the carefree way of someone who knows they’ll be home soon, but in the unsettling way of someone who’ll soon be giving a speech to their mortal enemies.

                Sam and Dean made their way from woodshop, a class they share, to their lockers, which were placed side-by-side thanks to the alphabetical system. Not that either of them mind, this allows them to see each other between classes.

                Dean put his folder and pencil in the locker, and retrieved a huge binder and set of four highlighters.

                “Livin’ the dream,” he grumbled to Sam with affectionate sarcasm.

                “I’m nervous about speeches,” Sam said passively. “What if I mess up? In front of…them…”

                “Hey, don’t worry, I’m a little nervous too,” Dean confided, “And so is everybody else. Including…” A pause. “…New Richmond.”

             “We should probably get more comfortable with saying that if we’re going to be meeting them in a few minutes.”

                “You’re right,” Dean said. “New Richmond… New Richmond. New. Richmond.”

                Sam gave him a sidelong look.

                Dean cleared his throat. “New Richmond. _New_ Richmond. New _Rich_ mond.”

                Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Dean, stop chanting. We’re not trying to _summon_ them.”

                Dean gave a short pout, and brushed Sam’s hand off. “Bitch.”

                “Jerk,” he grinned.

                “As _heartwarming_ as that was,” Meg appeared behind them, making them both jump. “We should get to the meeting. If you guys want to hold hands or something, you totally can. I promise I won’t laugh.” She raised an eyebrow. “Much.”

                Dean made a face at her. “A-ha-ha-ha. Skank,” he snapped, and slammed his locker shut. He stormed down the hallway with as much menace as someone carrying a 4-pack of assorted highlighters can muster.

                Meg looked to Sam. “Angry little fella, isn’t he?”

                Sam half-grinned and shrugged, in an _it is what it is_ sort of way, before breaking into a half-jog to catch up with him.

 

 

                The team was mostly already there, with Dean, Sam, and Meg being the last to arrive. Everyone was milling around like they were lost. Even Gabriel looked high-strung as he folded Garth’s speech notes into tiny paper airplanes.

                Sam and Dean put their binders down in their usual desks.

                “Want to practice reciting?” Sam asked.

                “No,” Dean replied immediately. “But I will, because I could really use the practice.”

                Sam chuckled. “I bet.”

                He was halfway through his introduction paragraph on the evolution of the automobile when Sam started giggling. Like, serious _giggling_. With his hand covering his mouth and everything. It’s not right for someone of his size to giggle.

                “What is it, Sam?” Dean said. “Do you think cars without airbags are _funny_? Thousands of lives lost, Sam. _Thousands_.”

                Sam shook his head, laughter still coming out in short puffs. “No, dude, it’s just your face.”

                This flustered Dean visibly. “What do you mean, _my face_?” he squawked.

                Sam tried to collect himself enough to properly answer, but he wasn’t doing a very good job.

                “Some help you are,” Dean grumbled.

                The room had returned to its usual level of buzzing enthusiasm, the threat of visitors almost completely forgotten. Almost completely forgotten, until there was an ominous knock on the door.

                Everybody fell back into a strained silence. Bobby slowly stood up and approached the door, in the way somebody would approach an active landmine.

                He reached the door and gripped the handle. Taking a deep breath, he turned it and swung the door open.

                “Hey, Bobby. I’m bored. Got anything to eat in here?”

                Bobby breathed a sigh of relief. “Luke, you scared me half to death!”

                Luke cocked his head to the side curiously. “Why? What is it?” He took a look around at the rest of the classroom. All the students looked just as horrified. “Oh, come on. I’m not _that_ scary.”

                Bobby half-shrugged in a way that probably meant _yeah, you are_ but didn’t address it further. “We were just expecting someone else.”

                Luke raised an eyebrow. “Like who?” He wormed his way through the doorway, around Bobby, and into the room. “Hey, Gabe!” he greeted, and slapped Gabriel a high five as he walked past.

                “Hey, bro!” Gabriel answered, grinning from ear to ear. Gabriel is Luke’s younger brother, one being 17 and the other being 23. Luke is kind of a genius, graduating high school a year early, finishing college at 21, and accepting a teaching job at Somerset High School a year later. He’s only a few years older than the students themselves, and factoring in his sense of humor and love of mischief, he’s perfect ‘cool teacher’ material. And he would be, if it weren’t for his love of working people half to death. His classes are notoriously strenuous; he’s feared by the students and makes most of the faculty uneasy. The calm, confident, sinister, infinite aura he gave off was quite frightening. Sometime during his first year of teaching, a nickname, “Lucifer”, popped up. No one knows exactly who thought of it, but it stuck, and now you almost hear it more than his real name. Oddly enough, this doesn’t seem to bother Luke at all.

                Despite his cold nature, he actually cares about his students a lot. Particularly his little brother, and anyone who bothers to do the crazy amount of homework he assigns in his classes.

                He slid into the desk next to Sam’s, on the side opposite of Dean. “Hey, Sam. How’s the studying going?”

                Sam looked up at him and smiled politely. “Pretty good.”

                “That’s good,” Luke replied, voice low. He leaned over to get a better look at what Sam was reading. Dean visibly bristled.

                “Your note-taking skills are great. But I knew that already, from the notes you took in my class.” He stood up slowly and straightened his tie, before sauntering back to the door. “Goodbye, Bobby, Ellen,” he gave a nod in Ellen’s direction. “And good luck.” He was addressing the whole team when he said that, but he kept his eyes firmly locked on Sam’s. With a small, final smirk aimed at Gabriel, Luke stepped out the door and closed it behind him.

                “Jeez!” Dean exclaimed as soon as the door slammed. “Why do you put up with that, Sam?”

                Sam’s expression was clueless. “Put up with what?”

                “That creep, Lucifer!” Dean snarled. “He’s always trying to seduce you. Could he have _been_ any closer? And he always asks you such weird questions...”

                “Chill out, Dean,” Sam said. “He just wants to know how I’m doing. He’s nice to all the students who pay attention in his classes.”

                Dean was making a valiant attempt at not flipping his lid. “Not _that_ nice,” he retaliated under his breath.

                Gabriel chuckled darkly, but it was too quiet for anyone to notice.

                Another knock on the door.

                Bobby rolled his eyes. He grabbed the handle again and flung the door open. “Luke, I don’t have any foo…”

                A sharply dressed man, a little younger looking than Bobby, stood on the other side of the doorway. He grinned like a snake. “Hello there.”

                Bobby’s mouth opened and closed in surprise before he stepped aside to let the stranger in. “Sorry about that…” he started. “I thought you were… someone else.”

                The man’s smirk grew as he walked through the door. “That’s quite alright,” he said. He had a thick English accent that made every innocent thing he said sound malicious.

                “The name’s Anthony Crowley,” the venomous man said, offering his hand. “Call me Mr. Crowley.”

                After a moment’s hesitation, Bobby reached out and shook it unprofessionally. “Bobby,” he introduced, “I’m Bobby.”

                Crowley gave a businesslike smile, squeezed Bobby’s hand, and dropped it like it had a contagious disease. He turned back toward the open door, and his smile dropped just as fast.

                “Right in here,” he called into the hallway. Moments later, nine of the most well-groomed high school students you’ll ever see marched into the room. If they were in step, they would have looked like soldiers lining up.

                Dean leaned over and discreetly mumbled in Sam’s ear, “So these are the yahoos that kicked our ass at locals?”

                “Mm-hmm,” Sam hummed. He kept his eyes on the front of the classroom to study their opponents. Seven boys, two girls. He looked each of them up and down, partly to size them up, but mostly because he’s a natural observer. He observes, it’s part of his nature.

                Each of the New Richmond team members was wearing black dress pants and black dress shoes. They had matching orange-and-black checkered sweatervests (complete with chest pocket and pocket protector) that were worn over white long-sleeve dress shirts.

                Sam’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Certainly an _interesting_ wardrobe choice.

                “Looks like someone’s been stealing from Kevin’s closet, eh Sammy?” Dean whispered with a stupid smirk, elbowing him in the forearm.

                Sam glanced at him. “You know, that’s how the rest of the world sees us just for being in this group in the first place?”

                Dean’s smile faltered and he returned to facing the front.

                The room was silent as the Somerset team sat in their desks gawking, and the New Richmond team stood in a line at the front, looking at nothing in particular. Bobby and Crowley stood at the front also, Bobby looking extremely uncomfortable and Crowley smiling like he was very proud of himself for creating such an awkward situation for everybody. Ellen sat at the computer desk at the opposite end of the room, in the corner, reading a book. She hadn’t moved since there was a knock on the door, and hadn’t acknowledged the arrival of their rivals in the slightest.

                Crowley clapped his hands together. “Lovely,” he stated, about nothing in particular as far as anyone could tell. He waited a few moments before exclaiming, “Come on now, don’t be shy! Introduce yourselves! Go on, mingle!” He made exaggerated hand movements as his grin doubled in size. Even when flailing his arms and encouraging friendly social interaction, Crowley still managed to come off as a mobster boss.

                There was a moment of hesitation on everyone’s part before the teams reluctantly stood up out of their desks, or broke ranks, to find a friendly-looking stranger to talk to. Except for the coaches, of course, who stayed at the front to observe. The coaches minus Ellen, who very adamantly kept her gaze on her book.

                The introductions went as smoothly as you could expect them to.

 

                “Hello, I’m Alastair,” a New Richmond said. He had a high, nasally voice and rested far too long on each syllable he spoke.

                “Hey, I’m Ash,” Ash greeted, grabbing Alastair’s hand and shaking it, despite the fact it wasn’t offered to him.

                Alastair sneered. “Nice hair.”

                “Hey, thanks,” Ash said lazily, with a much more genuine smile. “You know how it is; business in the front, party in the back.” He smoothed down his hair for emphasis. “Hey, wanna check out my Tumblr?”

                Alastair made a face like Ash had offered him a naked sponge bath.

 

                Meg and a blonde New Richmond girl faced each other with equally forced tight smiles. They reached out at the same time and gripped hands tightly. They shook up and down just once.

                “Lilith.”

                “Meg.”

                “Nice to meet you.”

                “Yeah, you too, sweetie.”

                They broke apart immediately and whirled around to face opposite directions.

                “ _Bitch_.”

                “ _Skank_.”

 

                Gabriel found a boy built like a brick house and approached him with his usual laid-back confidence.

                “Sup. Call me Gabe.” Gabriel drawled.

                The New Richmond gave him a look that said Gabe reminded him of something he usually crushes under his shoe.

                “Uriel. Call me Urie and I’ll punch your lights out,” Uriel replied with a condescending smile.

                 “Oohhh, a feisty one! And here I thought this wouldn’t be any fun.” Gabriel chuckled under his breath.

                Bobby exhaled. “Looks like Gabe found a playmate.”

                Crowley gave him a questioning look. “Hmm?”

                “Nothing, nothing,” Bobby waved him off.

                Gabriel made a contemplating expression. “Wait, you mean, Yuri-Yuri? Like, the Yuri in Dr. Zhivago? That’s so precious; you must feel so connected to the curriculum!”

                 “A varsity, that read the book?” Uriel sneered. “Your mother must be proud.”

                Gabriel’s gaze hardened. Uriel’s eyes narrowed.

 

                Kevin trembled as he met the eyes of the large, intense man towering over him.

                “Hello, my name is Michael,” he said in a level voice. “It is nice to meet you.” He spoke with what could very well be genuine kindness. His facial features suggested kindness, unlike most of the New Richmond team.

                Kevin was still intimidated by a man who is at least a good foot taller than him, and possibly 100lbs of muscle heavier, no matter how gentle he may be. All he could manage in response was a sound not unlike a strangled goose.

 

                Garth had found a relaxed looking boy with fashionably tousled hair, who managed to pull off the sweatervest look.

                “I’m Garth,” Garth offered cheerily, and held out his hand.

                “Balthazar,” the New Richmond answered in an English accent. He smiled lazily in return.

                “Balthazar! That’s a neat name,” Garth fascinated.

                Balthazar’s smile grew. “You think so? Thanks.” He gestured at Garth. “Garth’s a pretty cool name, too.”

                Garth thinks that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to him.

               

                Raphael and Adam stood over an arm’s length away from each other. There were no greetings or attempts at conversation; just a mutual cautious warning stare.

 

                Ruby was standing by herself with her arms crossed when a New Richmond boy made his way over to her on the far right side of the room.

                “Hey, Ruby,” he said, golden eyes twinkling with mischief. “Long time no see.”

                She didn’t seem very pleased to see him. “What do you want?”

                He feigned hurt, putting a hand over his chest. “Ruby, so cruel! You think not of my poor, sensitive heart.” His voice was smooth, laced with bad intentions.

                “Azazel, stop it. I’m not in the mood,” she snapped.

                His grin widened. “But back when we were together…” he brushed her cheek with his thumb. “…You were always in the mood.”

                “Azazel, _back off!_ ” her voice rose of its own accord. A few people turned to glance at them, but most were busy working through their own awkward situations to pay them much mind.

                She turned her back to him, flipping her hair in his general direction, and strode across the room. She dropped back into her original seat and glared daggers at the chalkboard.

 

                Chuck sighed dramatically. The other team doesn’t have any alternates, so he continued sitting in the corner, scribbling his book.

 

                A petite redheaded girl had found Sam, and after exchanging smiles and greetings, they actually got along decently. She introduced herself as Anna, and she had the fun-little-sister vibe to her.

               

                They were both laughing at something Sam said, and Dean couldn’t help but be a little jealous of him. Why did he get the fun girl, when he was stuck with…?

                “Just a sec’,” Dean interrupted, turning back to the boy talking to him. Did he really not notice Dean hadn’t been listening? “What did you say your name was?”

                He gave Dean an even look and exhaled a small sigh before starting over. “My name is Castiel.”

                “Right,” Dean said, grinning briefly. “Dean.”

                Castiel looked right into his eyes. “Hello, Dean.”

                Dean’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “…Hello…?”

                Dean returned his gaze, expecting him to look away, or say something, but he didn’t. He just kept on looking at his eyes, like he could see into them for miles and miles. Or something. Dean doesn’t think anyone’s ever looked at him this intensely before, and he wishes this guy would stop. It was eerie, and it gave him a weird quivery feeling in his stomach.

                Sam brought a heavy hand down on his shoulder, and Dean let a breath go that he didn’t know he’d been holding. He used his brother as a greatly-needed excuse to tear Castiel’s never-ending stare off him.

                “Hey, Sam!” Dean greeted eagerly, looking over his shoulder to see him. “How’s it going?”

                Sam chuckled. “Great. Who’s your friend?”

                Dean stiffened slightly. “This…” he gestured to Castiel. “…is… Cas. Can I call you Cas?”

                Castiel tilted his head to the side a few degrees. “Sure, Dean.”

                Dean grimaced inwardly. He doesn't like how he keeps repeating his name. It sounds strange in his low, gravelly voice. He doesn't like how he tilts his head, either. It makes him look like a curious baby animal. Everything Cas does seems to set him off, in a way that’s hard to explain. The closest word he can find is _irritating_. How did he manage to become the most irritating person Dean knows in only a few minutes?

                “…Hey, Dean?” Sam said.

                Dean ripped his eyes away from Cas’s once more and looked at him. “Hmm?”

                Sam smiled. Or was that a smirk? What’s he smirking about?

                “Bobby and Crowley said we’ll start giving speeches in a minute. We should go sit.” Sam said.

                “When did they say that?” Dean asked, confused. How didn’t he hear them, he was standing right there! He considers he might be losing his mind. “…Nevermind. Let’s go.”

                And with that, he let Sam drag him back to their usual desks.


End file.
